William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

My Old Age

The personal, private, public nature of this project notwithstanding, I’ve noticed lately a new idea creeping in; namely, that I’m also bringing these pages together for my children. While they’re too busy living to read them now, and although they know me well enough that it really isn’t necessary, I know them well enough to say that if this website survives, they will appreciate it when I’m gone. As we all do with everything we ponder and read, they will look here for meaning; they will search for clues. And when they do, they will see, and be reminded, that we are all each other’s children.

 

My Old Age

Someday
I will be
an old man
only children
understand.

They will
find my door
at the end
of a path
lined with
colored rocks
and thistles,
drawn by
the sane life
our weary
neighbors
have condemned,
by my bright
clear eyes
and rumpled
clothes,
my face
with veins
and jagged holes
of missing
wayward teeth.

Come in,
I bid you welcome,
each and every
one.

Fellow humans,
I hail thee.

My window
looks out upon
a strange
and distant land,
my hearth
is warmer
than the street.

I brew a tea
of ancient
tattered pages,
and read
their words
in steam.

I have no radio
or telephone,
but see my
lovely broom,
see her smiling
in the corner
amid an avalanche
of worn out hats,
see her bristles
full of bright
new stars.

Songs and Letters, October 9, 2005

Categories: Everything and Nothing, Songs and Letters

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